


A New Way To Love You

by penguinpal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John Watson, Caring Sherlock Holmes, Crying John, John Watson Has PTSD, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John has a nightmare, M/M, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21512263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinpal/pseuds/penguinpal
Summary: Sherlock comforts John after he has a nightmare.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 162





	A New Way To Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posting for Sherlock and John. 
> 
> Please leave me comment to let me know what you think.

The morning started out not entirely unusual in apartment 221B. Sherlock woke to low deep groaning that sounded like a man in pain and he froze. It was muffled and came from the ceiling, meaning only one thing. John's room, which meant he was having another nightmare.

Sherlock immediately bounded out of bed and ran upstairs to find the man in the middle of one of his truly terrible nightmares; he was jerking back and forth, making broad sweeping motions with his fists as if he was fighting someone off.

Sherlock crept closer, very carefully and very softly, placed his hand on John's upper left chest, warm and solid under his touch. With the smallest of shifts, he began gently rubbing along John's shoulder, feeling the muscles there tense and bunch. All the time he tried comforting John in the softest of voices.

"John, it's alright. You're alright." He whispered; he knew he had to be careful. One wrong move and John could go wild and break -- in a flash John's groans roared into a loud shout. He bolted upright and his hand snapped closed around Sherlock's wrist before he could pull it away.

Sherlock yelped at the strong grip. John certainly knew many ways to break a wrist but right now it felt as if he was going to simply squeeze the delicate bones together until they crumbled under the intense pressure.

"John." He cried, trying to pull away to no avail. "It's me. Sherlock. John, please!"

John grunted, his breath came out hot and heavy as it left his heaving chest. His brows knit together as the fog of his nightmare began to lift. Sherlock was pulling away with all his might when John suddenly released him, causing Sherlock to topple backwards.

In an instant and sounding like a wounded animal, John was on the ground next to him, rattling his shoulders, shaking Sherlock's body like a ragdoll under his strong hands. "Sherlock, Sherlock, I'm so sorry." John sobbed thickly. Sherlock could see he was crying now, tears starting to fall against his cheek.

"I'm fine. John," he gasped. "It's you...you were having a nightmare. I wanted to wake you gently. It's worked in the past. I must not have as quiet as I thought."

John lifted Sherlock to his feet and then they both, in one motion together, sat on the bed and clasped each others hands, seeking and giving comfort mutually. It was Sherlock who was more insistent, however, and after he tried a few dominating gestures a few times, John finally submitted to the detective's soft hands stroking his face and wiping away his tears. John finally looked up, his gorgeous cobalt navy blue eyes meeting Sherlock's pale blue, aero eyes.

"It was worse." John voice was hoarse. "This time it was worse. That's why you couldn't wake me up like normal."

Sherlock swallowed. He was bad with these things but then never in his life did he want to protect and comfort and help another person as much as he did John. 

"Sorry." John added pitifully, letting his head lower.

"No!" Sherlock cried. "How can you even think of saying sorry when you were hurting and I...I was the one who should have...should have known what to do... I should always be there for you." His hand suddenly found itself in the thick short bristles on John's greying hair. It felt amazing to finally get to feel John's hair. It was slightly sweaty but Sherlock didn't care. "I made a vow, remember. To be there for you."

"You are." John said, a small smile forming on his face.

Encouraged Sherlock let his hand fall to the broad shoulders and massaged the muscles there. John made a low, gutteral sound, in a nearly erotic deep timber, sent shivers skating down Sherlock's spine.

Should he continue? Should he let John rest?

Feeling that the right thing would be the latter he pulled back his hand, ruffled his curls and let out a tired sign. He knew John needed sleep, the dark bags under his eyes were nearly black. The good thing would be to let him go back to sleep, but part of Sherlock couldn't bear to leave him. "Do you want some water?" he asked, making to stand up. John's hand flew and gripped his shoulder tightly, bringing him back down to the bed.

"No. Don't leave me. Please."

Sherlock gasped. "Never." He said solemnly.

John chuckled a bit, staring ahead and looking a bit uncomfortable. He scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed deeply while they continued sitting next to each other, not saying a word. In those minutes of aching silence, Sherlock couldn't stop looking at his handsome face, every crevice and line and curve was gorgeous. His eyes fell to his lips, thin and slightly chapped, and surrounded by a day old beard. They were the most beautiful pair of lips in the world, Sherlock thought frantically, and suddenly an idle thought of what stubble burn would feel like crossed his mind.

He didn't even realize he was doing it until it was too late. He leaned over and kissed John square on the mouth. It was both instantaneous and lifelong. John's lips were surprisingly hot, full of blood, and even though John didn't react to the kiss, Sherlock felt an electric spark zing through him.

He pulled away and swallowed. God, he'd done it now. John would never forgive him. John was straight as they come... He'd probably yell at Sherlock and start packing his things. The thought of John leaving 221B again made Sherlock want to scream in anguish. He couldn't even bare to look John in the eyes. He turned his head when in a flash John reached up and grabbed the back of Sherlock's head and pulled him back in. This time the kiss was on both sides, sweet and passionate. Sherlock moaned when John's teeth scraped his bottom lip. It quickly evolved into more than just kissing. Sherlock moaned when John began kissing down his neck, his scruffy chin and jaw scratching in the most pleasing of ways across Sherlock's pale skin. He hoped there will be marks there in the morning.

In turn Sherlock let his hands roam across the wide planes of John's back and shoulders, squeezing the robust muscles, next tugging up the man's t-shirt to wander over his chest. John groaned thickly. Encouraged Sherlock found a nipple and gave it a gentle pinch. "Fuck," John sighed deeply. "I'm in love with you," he suddenly added.

Sherlock froze, his face growing hot. In that second, Sherlock could feel the air rushing in and out of his lungs, his relentlessly rapid heartbeat, a needy sort of joy rising up inside him. "John, I ..." 

"It's alright if you don't love me back. Sherlock..." It was like someone hit him over the head with a croquet mallet.

"I love you so much there aren't words in the English language to properly convey it." He breathed out in a rush of emotion, and clasped John's firm jaw with both hands on either side and before kissing him once more. Not chaste or careful like before. Dominating and exploring John's mouth like he was finally allowed to do. John tasted like morning breath and old whisky and John. Intoxicating.

"The nightmares, they're about you." John rumbled in between Sherlock's kisses. "I see you on the road outside Irene Adler's house, on the pavement after the jump, on the restaurant floor, on the ground in the morgue. Sherlock do you realize how often I've seen or caused you being hurt underneath me?"

Sherlock giggled at the innuendo.

"I'm serious Sherlock. How can I make it up to you?" His voice had gone stiff with suppressed emotions.

"Let me love you." Sherlock replied breathlessly.

Sherlock was nearly taken aback by the fiery look in his stormy eyes, the tense set of his jaw. "That would be lovely, yeah." Sherlock gasped when John reached over and roughly squeezed his ass, pulling them closer together, causing a volley of hot sparks to ricochet down Sherlock's flank.

Soon a pool of pajama bottoms and t-shirts began forming across the bedroom floor. Sherlock wasn't wearing any pants and felt his cheeks blaze under John's scrutiny. Then his hand came up to cup Sherlock's face. "You're lovely." John murmured.

"Okay. Now you're turn. Get these off," Sherlock whined, clawing at the waistband of John's boxers until they joined the heap. "Oh." He breathed out.

Not caring about anything other than having John under his hands Sherlock gently dominated him again until John conceded and laid himself flat against the mattress, his hands pulling Sherlock on top of him. Skin against skin, warmth against warmth. Sherlock cried out sharpy at the feel of that hot, hard cock pressed against him, and John vocalized his own pleasure at the proceedings with a soft grunt. Sherlock took that instant to kiss him once more, his tongue pushing inside as John held tightly onto Sherlock's hips, moving Sherlock's body up and down against his erection.

It was marvelous. Being with a man. He'd been with women, women like Janine or Irene, from time to time to sham them, there was never any sex. But he did have to touch them, occasionally hold them. They were soft and made insipid high pitched sounds. John was brilliantly different: a larger body, rougher skin, a muskier smell, a deeper voice.

Head spinning at the smell and feel of another man beneath him, Sherlock couldn't stop making small moans and breathless gasps, and hearing John's echoing sexy groans just intensified the passion inside his core. After he deemed John 'snogged silly,' Sherlock released him and wandered down his impressively muscled body. Nothing showy, just the natural breadth and strength of an ex-soldier. John's hands did the same with his body, and on that account Sherlock had nothing to be embarrassed about. He knew he was quite fit, as he secretly employed a personal trainer. But it just made him more in awe of how gorgeous John looked without the special workouts and yoga Sherlock employed consistently. Sherlock played with John's nipples until they were a dark ruddy colour, very much appreciating how John groaned and sighed at the lavish attention paid there. Moving further down he admired how John's skin wasn't fully bronzed like it got in the summer months but it was still several shades darker than Sherlock's hands, making for a lovely contrast. Made more gorgeous at how ruddy and flushed his skin became as Sherlock worked his way down until there, at the center of the man, between two thick, muscular legs, a thicket of wild pubic hair, stood his gorgeous cock. It pulsed, a gentle throb, in time with John's heartbeat.

Sherlock wanted to keep exploring him a bit, so he worked around the thighs and abdomen, pinched and licked the salty sweaty skin from time to time. Just to see what sort of reactions they would elicit. Always positive ones he noted with a grin.

John however seemed eager to do his own testing and surprised Sherlock when a hand suddenly gave a gentle yank at a lock of his hair. Sherlock moaned sharply, _sluttishly_ if he was being honest with himself. He pulled back and narrowed his eyes, seeing John smirking down at him.

"None of that now." He pushed John's hand away. "This is about you, Mr. Watson."

"Oh, it's _Mister_ now, is it? I'll have you know I didn't go to years and years of medical school and training just to be called..." John shouted a gruff, drawn out, inarticulate syllable when Sherlock's mouth opened wide and tentatively engulfed the head of John's cock. Sherlock kept John like that for several moments, just appreciating the blissful fullness of the head stuffed inside his mouth. John hissed and cursed, his hands at his sides, fisting the bed sheets.

"Sherlock, no." John suddenly hauled him back by his shoulders, a wet popping sound made when Sherlock pulled off. "You don't have to do this."

Sherlock purred, lips hovering wetly over John's cock, "But I want to hear you groan again. I want you to be so loud Mrs. Hudson needs additional herbal soothers."

He wrapped his lips around the head once more, and this time was gifted by a groan so deep it was nearly subsonic. 

He might not have had any working experience with this, but he's read up enough times, watched enough porn, and quite frankly, Sherlock had dreamed of this moment for so long it was as if he were doing it all by rote. John tasted as salty and bitter as he imagined, and smelled even muskier. A heavenly aroma of pure male. Best of all, John was reacting even better than he could have fantasized.

“Yes Sherlock. That’s very good. So good."

Heartened, and ardently turned on by the reactions he was getting out of the man, Sherlock slid an inch or two of the thick shaft into his mouth, feeling the cock stretch his throat. He was rewarded by a throaty rumble that he could practically feel reverberate through his chest, so he put one hand around the base and slid further down John's cock, feeling the thick, hot, hardness of it filling his throat.

"Fuck. Dear God, yes Sherlock. That feels... You feel fucking amazing. You're actually amazing at this." John groaned. By now his hand had moved to grip Sherlock's hair, clenching and releasing in rhythm to invisible thrusting. Sherlock took as much of the thick shaft into his mouth as he could and used his other hand to stimulate the lower half. The stretching out of his lips and throat and the ache in his jaw intensified but he was too overjoyed to hear John coming undone under his work to even consider stopping. He bobbed his head up and sank back down, again and again, working his hand on the part of the shaft he couldn't fit in his mouth in a concurrent rhythm. After another deep groan and raspy gasp and Sherlock bobbed up and down faster.

“Oh God. You’re so good." The husk of John's gravelly voice and the burning hot words he spoke caused Sherlock to mewl around the length, and move faster with his mouth and his hand. He felt powerful and desired and completely in control and extremely aroused. Having John Watson completely at his mercy due to Sherlock giving him pleasure. It was a heady combination of sensations.

"You’re going to make me come soon." Thrilled to think he would be able to make John come from his first attempt at a blow job, an emboldened Sherlock looked up, just for a second, and saw John's dark eyes looking back at him. Gone was the normal navy blue colour of before, it was entirely black in desire.

In that brief moment John lost control and snapped his hips forward. Sherlock fought the instinct to gag hard, but couldn't help from drawing off, choking wetly. He planned on going back but John grabbed him and pulled him up, kissing him deeply, on the lips and then moving to the neck. John licked up Sherlock's neck, and growled, "I want you to fuck me." 

Spluttering Sherlock's face turned a bright peony color. "Are you sure."

"You. In. Me." Each word was emphasized with a thick, glottal passion.

Sherlock tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle, despite the heat of the John's words. "Nice turn of phrase, _Doctor_ Watson, but I need to get the lube first." 

"Actually, _first,_ I need to do _this_..." In a flash, John had Sherlock on his back and his hot, hot mouth had sucked down the entirely of Sherlock's erection. "Ah!" He keened and arched and couldn't help but thrust inside John's mouth. But his mind was still able to process the situation. The last thing he wanted was John having to pay attention to Sherlock. This was about Sherlock paying attention to _John._ But what was making it infinitely worse, was how close he was to coming. "John...stop, or I'll come. I want to come inside you. _Remember_." He managed to get out between moans. 

John pulled back with a slurp, and grinned. "Sorry. I definitely want you in me, but couldn't help myself. You taste delicious."

"Nothing compared to you," Sherlock breathed. He kissed John again, once more dominating the kiss and letting John taste himself, simultaneously tasting his own precome on John's tongue. John hummed and bent his knees so that Sherlock could press a finger inside. God, he was blood hot. Hot and perfect. "Oh John. I can't wait to be inside you." 

"Me neither, so get on with it." John chuckled. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and after a few tries found his prostate. The deep groan told Sherlock had indeed found his mark. Soon enough John was making harsh panting sounds. "I'm ready, I'm ready. Please Sherlock, fuck me." 

Sherlock nodded and pressed inside, a single glide. It was so hot and so perfect and John moaned so deeply, it was all driving Sherlock even higher to his impending climax.

He encouraged John to stroke himself while he set a steady rhythm. He changed the angle a few times until a guttural moan ripped out John's throat. "God yes!" 

_Bingo!_

He started going faster and watched John stroked his cock in time with the new speed. The sights and smells were intoxicating. Sherlock felt himself reach that edge and thank God, John's hand became a blur over his cock and he knew he must be close. Sherlock cried out as he came inside John. _His_ John. 

Just a few strokes more and John came, too, with a roar of lust. Slipping out of John Sherlock turned so that he could hold John as he too was catching his breath. 

"That was amazing." John chuckled. Sherlock looked at John who's entire face was dripping with sweat. He had the insane notion of licking it off. 

"John you are my entire world. You are perfect. Those nightmares. They aren't you. I deserved those...instances. You know it and I know it. Your subconscious wants to make you feel guilty but please know there's nothing to be guilty about. I was the one who left you without explaining why. Mary performed psychological torture on both of us. We have each other now. She's gone now. Please don't let me spoil _us_ anymore." 

"I won't." He said ruefully. "At least I'll try to push them away." A broad grin formed on his face. "But you know, if I do have another nightmare, I have that to look forward to." He then burst into laughter and Sherlock started giggling, too. They kept like this for almost a full minute. John brought Sherlock's curly head closer to his chest, and Sherlock, his hiccupping giggles now finally abated, wrapped his arms around John best he could, and let his eyes flutter closed as he fell asleep. Holding John as John held him they fell asleep together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos! It would mean so much to me. I noticed so few people have left kudos compared with number of views.


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